No Fear-

What began for me as a novelty line of shirts took on some new meanings as I viewed them later in life. At that time, I thought they were cool. Looking back, I see some were true, others never meant to be true for me and still others held deeper meaning now than they did then. It’s a matter of been there; been that; got the t-shirt first, instead of, “ Ain’t this old shirt cool?” When you do the things, live the life, experience the now, the right now I am here and I must persevere state of mind that brings you the now that is much later than the then that spawned the cliché’, you can reflect, recall, re-taste re-smell, re-feel a small part of that then that was now. No old photo can impart the taste and feel and smell of when you were there. A blurry photo of some trees and rain. It was a eucalyptus forest in a fresh rain. Red gum is different from white gum. To you a blurry photo of some trees in the rain. To me; the smell I have searched for in a thousand candle stores, only finding it once, in Sidney’s waterfront. It was a drive south of Sidney, Australia exploring a country I had never been to while talking on the phone to someone I had never met, except online, but would someday marry. Like being fascinated by the dimes placed on the table next to each of a number of friends gathered at the hawker center in Singapore and wondering it’s purpose. Stepping into the Vatican for the first time in awe of the design, the art of the building, the seething religiousness. Seeing the machine gun emplacements guarding the only road to Doljani from Jablanica. A rocket propelled grenade washed free by the spring runoff, leftover from the war. Well maybe… The fist of Prozor, as it looked over a city, and as it lay in rubble destroyed by 7 anti tank mines wired up inside. Workers sifting through rubbish covering a mass grave. Driving along the Dili road from Comoro as tires burned along the way, marking each spot where someone was killed during the “Indonesian time.” Walking along the wall in Washington DC, and wondering out loud how politicians dare to mess with our country, our freedom and independence, our pure Americanisms in the midst of all of this remembrance of greatness of sacrifice. And how we let them…
It all still means something…
SOME PEOPLE LIVE BUT NEVER REALLY EXIST.
IN MY WORLD THERE IS NO NEXT TIME, NO SECOND CHANCE. NO TIMEOUT.
THE EDGE IS A DANGEROUS PLACE TO LIVE, BUT THE BEST VIEW OF YOUR SOUL IS FROM BEYOND THE EDGE LOOKING BACK. FOR THOSE WHO CAN NOT UNDERSTAND, I CAN NOT EXPLAIN.
THERE IS NO RISK INVOLVED...IF YOU'RE GOOD.
THE PRICE OF LIVING IS DYING, EVERYBODY PAYS.
It’s all still true…
WE KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE; STANDING IN THE QUIET OF THE DAWN. ABSORBING THE ENERGY OF THAT BRIEF MOMENT OF TIME WHEN ALL IS STILL, THE AIR IS FRESH; THE MORNING MIST BEGINS its JOURNEY SKYWARD AS THE SHADOWS RETREAT, SHAMED BY THE LIGHT, COWED BY THE COMING SUN: THE BATTLE FIELD AWAKENS…